


Home

by Morethancupcake



Series: Tarentelle [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Castiel, Blood, Consensual Sex, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fights, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Homeless Castiel, Jealous Dean, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Rough Sex, Russian Castiel, Slice of Life, Tattooed Castiel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically blisters but just to be safe, but really nothing too bad, check the notes if you're too scared, some kind of dub-con work for Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is it. Castiel, in his still too big sweats, no matter how much Dean feeds him, the smell of food, and the condensation on the bottle waiting for him. His uniform, still too new and too fresh, close to Castiel's old jacket. Their shoes at the door. This is it."</p><p> </p><p>Parts of their life together, building a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cheating a little for my second try at the halloween challenge. The prompt was "rough sex" but there's very little sex in this, I apologize in advance for the smut fans. Still not happening.

"I don't like it." Dean smiles, because it's faint, but it's here. Castiel's accent, it's almost perceptible, here at the end. He always slips when he drinks, and tonight, for Sam's birthday, he had thrown all caution to the wind, drinking vodka as if it was water, smoking even. Dean realizes he probably spent too much time smiling to himself, because Castiel is smiling too, and gosh, this man is beautiful.

"Don't like what ?" His words are a little heavy but he's mostly ok, and he's glad they decided to walk and not to take baby anywhere. The front steps seem higher, somehow.

"The way they joke about you, all the time. They're mean, and I don't like it."

"What..? Who...?" He's so surprised Castiel has to grab his jacket and drag him inside, help him get rid of his clothes and guide him to the bathroom. 

"Sam and Jo. They joke about you."

"Well, yes. But it's family, Cas. Family does that, means they love you." Castiel's eyes are dark, but he doesn't seem pissed. He smiles and hands Dean his toothbrush. Castiel's eyes are dark, but there's that little light, the one saying "Americans" with that sexy accent. "Guess it's not like that in soviet Russia, uh ?"

"We never disrespect the people we love." It's almost unfair, the way he can be gracious with foam at the corner of his mouth, hair a mess and sweatpants low on his hips. He finishes with mouthwash, and adds, grabbing a glass and filling it. "I would never say anything about my brothers in front of strangers."

"You talk shit about Gabriel in front of me all the time !"

"Are we strangers, Dean ?" Gosh, that stupid accent, topped with the eyebrows. It was so unfair. Especially when he had toothpaste of his chin, and was missing a sock. "But it's not exactly a Russian thing. More an European thing, I think. We don't point out our loved ones' flaws in public." Dean watches him, Castiel streching his feet and his ridiculously long legs before getting under the covers. "Meaning I would never mention your bowlegs to anyone, no matter how obvious they are."

Dean is so busy imagining tracing the tattoos with his tongue it takes him a handful of seconds to jump on the bed.

Later he listens to the night. Suburbia is calm, so calm. He remembers, he used to hate it, with Lisa. He used to love the sound of traffic, and the people screaming for afar. It was good, safe. 

Brutus, the adorable dog next door barks at a car, and it makes him smile. It's not the little shithole he used to live in, as Jo had called it. It's not their first house, with broken windows and, thank you Sam for remembering, the cats hiding under baby's during winter and almost always making him late. They joke, of course they joke, how could they know.

 

Castiel is cleaning the blood on his toes when he comes home. He's sitting in their shiny new bathroom, putting fresh bandages on the torn skin, and Dean wishes he could help, he wishes he was strong enough, but there's not a patch of skin on some toes, and it's just... it's hardcore, even for him. Cas will walk soon, not even limping, and Dean can't even remember the last time he didn't moan about a papercut.

"Dean !" Castiel's smile is a little unsure, he knows how Dean can't stomach this part of training. "I'm sorry, I'll be here in a minute."

Dean kisses him in their kitchen, long and slow, and he does't say a word when Castiel falls asleep at the kitchen table. He carries him to their bed, and laugh softly at the few words he can hear that are definitely not English. 

"Still not Russian, Cas."

 

"That's what you did, then ? When you were studying ?" The pictures are scattered on the table, beautiful, very beautiful. Dean is full of anger, full of hate, but mostly, he's scared. 

"No." Castiel grabs the bag he left close to the basement door, and puts his scarf back on. He isn't even looking, he isn't even acknowledging what's happening. He still has his battered jacket on, the one Dean knows belonged to Gabriel, back home. It's the only thing he had, coming here, he had said. Dean had been so ready to believe the story of the perfect little Russian dancer.

"Yeah, right. Just go. Leave, you're right. Leave me to deal alone with this."

It's a blurr, but suddenly Dean is pinned against the wall, Cas' bag at their feet. He was scared before. This is fucking terrifying. Castiel's arm at his throat, the blue eyes filled with tears and anger, so much anger. 

"It's what I was doing when I was starving, american boy." His accent is thick, thicker than it ever was before. Dean doesn't want to move, is too much of a coward to move. "It was this, or worse."

Castiel grabs his bag, and leaves. The silence in the house his deafening. 

Dean takes a long shower, letting the almost cold water taking him further away from the chaos he created. He thinks about Castiel, outside in the cold, after a whole day of rehearsal. He thinks about the food they bought, still packed in the small kitchen. He thinks about Castiel alone, somewhere.

He worries.

He makes himself a cup of tea, and watches the pictures, again. They're tasteful, and it's obviously not porn. Charlie had been giggling, giving him the enveloppe, as if it was okay. Castiel, almost naked and twisted, his beautiful body for everyone to see. He was probably younger, his body very slim, his eyes hard. Dean takes the one he likes the most, and he traces these eyes with his fingers.

Outside, the wind doesn't move the leaves anymore, but it's still cold, and he worries.

 

Castiel is surprised to find him there, when he opens the door. He nods in his direction, and goes straight for the basement. Dean hears the muffled sounds, the washing machine, and Castiel placing his stuff away, carefully. A routine he started at school, when he was just a kid, Dean remembers. Dirty clothes away, bags open, the rest breathing on a shelf until the next day.

 

"Are you alright ?" Castiel is drinking the broth of his soup, slowly. Dean wonders if he ate at all, since he had no money on him, his wallet still in their room. The black head nods, and the chewing sounds are loud between them. "You went to Anna's ?"

"Anna is at her parent's." The porcelain bowl makes a small sound on the old kitchen table. They had to move the table all the way from Ash's tiny appartment to there, not able to take the train and too afraid to scratch baby. It had been fun.

"Where were you ?" Dean thinks about the obvious, and unfortunately there isn't too many names left. Balthazar and Michael still in Paris. Hannah now in Toronto. 

"I went to the shelter for the night. They remembered me, so they made it easier even without an ID." Dean feels all the air pulled away from him. Castiel looks at him for a handful of seconds. "You can call them if you don't believe me. You're the cop."

"I.. I don't. I believe you."

He tries to picture Castiel, on a bunk bed with strays and homeless people. He tries to picture him sleeping with his clothes on, and holding his bag, not to lose anything. He remembers all the horrible stories he had heard, and he wants to apologize.

"You should've come home."

"I am not going to be ashamed of that." The thick accent is back again, and Castiel's fingers are shaking a little, holding a cup of tea. Dean knows he didn't eat today, probably too proud to ask one of the other dancers for a thing. "I am not like you. I am not a blond American boy. I had nothing. I went to the shelter everynight, and had to be at work in the morning so I could keep my scholarship. I couldn't speak properly, and I had no clothes. I had nothing."

"I know." Dean sits on the floor, on the other side of their little kitchen. 

"No you don't. You don't know what it feels to know a few pictures of you dancing will pay for months worth of food. You don't know how good it is to be able to rent a room, and to sleep with a door closed. You don't. And I'm happy you don't."

"It was safe ?" Dean hides his head in his arms.

"It was a nice man. He had a whole exhibition about us. We were young, of course, but he wouldn't touch, or look except for the pictures." Castiel loses his grasps on English, and he trips on words. "He would always feed me, very nice meals, with meat. I had meat once or twice before, but it wasn't that good. And sometimes he would let me take baths with oils and bubbles. Nice man."

"He sounds nice." Dean can feel tears running the bride of his nose, and he silently say thank you. Thank you for this man, and the warm food, and the little kidness in Cas' life.

"The other boys were dancing in clubs, and had to do... things. All I had to do was to put on pointes and let him take pictures. So I did."

"I'm sorry I yelled. I'm so sorry."

"I know, American boy. I know."

 

Castiel is spread under him, scratching at his skin, moaning his name. His world has been reduced to this, all that skin, and the ink, and the taste of this man in his mouth. He's wild, he takes and takes, and his hands roam free, tracing the muscles, the hair, the lines. He whispers i love yous, and the blue eyes turn cobalt blue, and he kisses Cas until he's almost dizzy. Castiel moves, he whines, he makes these like breathless moans he's so addicted about, and he can't help it, the words tumble from his mouth.

So good, my love, so great. You're amazing, you're an angel.

The eyes turn black, and in an instant Castiel's fingers are at his throat, and Dean looses the rhythm, because it's hot, but mostly it's scary as fuck. Because yeah, Dean is probably a badass out there, but the guy freaking survived Russia, and being young and pretty in a very poor area, and Dean knows enough to know he has every reason to be scared.

"Now is not the time for tenderness. Fuck me, Dean. I need you to hold me, and make me take it." Castiel licks at his lips, and Dean taste them, and it's so hot, and he should be worried, he should ask why. Castiel bites, and he can almost taste blood, and something blows up in his head.

He isn't even ashamed of what he's saying, holding the other man down, face into the mattress, and pounding into him. It's about control, and damn if knowing this man trust him enough to allow this isn't an aphrodisiac in itself.

He purrs in Cas' ear, and calls him a good little boy before biting him, and Castiel shouts. It shouldn't be that hot, except it is, and Dean almost forget to brace himself on the bed when he falls over. He brushes his boyfriend's shoulder blades slowly, before kissing them, and going to the bathroom, to find a washcloth and these weird wipes Castiel wants him to use on them, because he likes the smell. He hasn't moved when Dean's back, and he's so silent during the cleaning Dean wonders if he's asleep.

"Are you okay ?" he whispers, getting them back under the covers. "Cas ?"

"Angel." Cas whispers back, head still burried in his arms. "You can call me angel now." It takes a lot of coaxing and little kisses peppered on the tattoos for Castiel to finally move and drape himself around Dean. They kiss slowly, Dean running his fingers into Cas' hair, messing it even more. 

"You needed it a little rough, baby ?" A nod. "And now it's over ?" Another nod. "You're amazing, Cas."

"You can say I love you." Dean frowns, puzzled, and Castiel smiles, eyes still closed. "When you're holding me down. No pet names, no compliments, but... tell me you love me."

"I will, Angel." Cas is searching for his lips, and he can't deny him anything. "I love you."

 

The first time Dean finds in himself the courage to invite Cas over, he almost trips over the stairs, just to make the place perfect. He scrubs the tired little kitchen, and he runs to the store to get the best his poor paycheck can buy. 

Because Castiel looks proud, aristocratic, almost. His eyes are hard, and strong, and his smile... His smile. Dean would do a lot of unspeakable things to see this smile. Castiel comes every night to get a warm cup of soup, and a small bun, Benny's offer to the ones too poor to buy from the menu.

Dean is in love, already, he knows it. He knows the weight of Castiel hand in his, and he knows the heated moans on the back of baby, late at night. He knows the softness of Cas' body, sleeping next to his on the backseat, and he knows his smile, his beautiful smile when they kissed goodbye. "Come to my place tonight." he has said, between kisses. "We'll do it right this time." 

He bakes two chicken thighs, and some potatoes, and he manages to make the wilted salad and the poor tomato appealing enough. It will probably mean instant ramen for the rest of the month, but who cares. Who cares. 

He puts on clean sheets, smelling like the cheap soap he uses, but still soap, and he hopes it's enough. God he hopes it's enough.

He eyes his little place, the tiny bedroom, the small living area, with his big old TV and the DVDs he managed to collect over the years. It's not much. Who is he kidding, it's shit, but it's all he has. The old carpet, the old couch, the smell of old coffee and smoke. That's all he has to offer.

 

Castiel looks a little shocked, when he opens the door. He smells like ivory soap, and he's wearing an oxford shirt Dean doesn't recognize, a little too big for him, maybe. Nothing like the soft shirts, the big jumpers Castiel wears when they see each other at the coffee shop. He follow Dean around, with a soft smile on his face, and it's so new, no exciting, it takes a while for Dean to notice the huge military bag on the floor.

They eat, sitting on the floor, because it was either a kitchen table or the washer, and Dean had saved a lot not to have to face the laundromat ever again. Castiel eats and laugh, he doesn't drink, because he still has to train in the morning, but he compliments Dean and looks happy. Almost serene.

Dean smiles in his bottle, because he's happy to see Cas like this. Carefree, young, almost.

Then he asks if Cas needs another shower, and the delight he sees brings up the heavy clouds in his head.

In the end, he asks. He asks, because Castiel is tucked against him, his skin soft, but still a little dry, just like Dean's. It's the cheap soap, it's the cold, it's not having time to put on lotion. It's perfect. He asks, because Castiel smells the sheets, he smells Dean' skin, and he smiles.

"Cas. You have your bag with you."

"I'm sorry. It's too big to leave at the studio. I'll have a bigger locker if I make it to the Opera..." Dean kisses his forehead. Cas is chasing the opera. Dean is chasing the academy. They both need to make it work. They have no other choice, it seems.

"Cas ?"

"Hmm ?"

"Where do you sleep ?"

Castiel plays with his fingers, connecting the freckles. He looks happy, there, like a kid. Dean doesn't think he realizes what he's saying. Maybe it's the afterglow, maybe, but he isn't vain enough to believe it. It's probably the warm food, and the shower. It's their bodies together, and Dean's stupid soap.

"There's a shelter, close to the studio. I help them clean in the morning, and I get to stay."

"A homeless shelter ?"

"Yes." 

 

In the morning, Cas kisses him, sweet and bashful, before leaving for practice. The man who scowls down the stairs isn't the one who giggled in delight at Dean's overcooked eggs and toast. 

Dean looks around, his coffee still in hand. He starts with a drawer.

It takes one mention of the shelter for Benny to frown and tell him to take his boyfriend with him. Dean feels bad, he feels awful to put this on their friend, but Cas looks at them as if they're crazy, and Dean can see it, the mask cracking a little. 

Cas learns how to make coffee, and tea, and when he's not at the studio, he's lifting bags of potatoes and cooking next to Dean, wiping the counter and laughing with Benny.

They sleep together in Dean's old bed. Their bed.

 

A week after Cas' first paycheck as a resident dancer, they move from the little hole they used to call home to a small house. It's quaint, and the neighbours are nice people. It's a little ridiculous, at first, to see their awful furnitures dwarfed in the regular rooms, but it's home. 

Castiel buys steaks, and beer, and when Dean comes home, harassed and tired, he almost cries for a second, because this is it. The better days he used to dream about. This is it. Castiel, in his still too big sweats, no matter how much Dean feeds him, the smell of food, and the condensation on the bottle waiting for him. His uniform, still too new and too fresh, close to Castiel's old jacket. Their shoes at the door.

This is it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here for the spoilers, it's nothing too bad, we learn Cas has done some kind of modeling when he was a student. It involved nudity, and he probably was too young to properly consent to any kind of work. Nothing happened. If you're not comfortable about reading about it, please take care of yourself and pick something else ? 
> 
>  
> 
> If you made it to the end, thank you for reading ! Please don't ever hesitate to drop by on tumblr and send me a message of you have any questions.
> 
>  http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/130941259114/home
> 
> If you liked the story enough, please leave a nice comment, or kudos, they make me ridiculously happy. Please remember to stay warm, drink plenty of water, and if you decide to take a nap, grab a blanket ! Happy October !


End file.
